


Exile

by anna_43



Category: Sally Face (Video Games)
Genre: Aged Characters, Another Edgy Crime Plot, Blackmail, Cigarette Addiction, Crime, Detective AU, Detective x Criminal, Gay tension, I Ain't Rushing My Boys, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Natural Burn, Sorry Not Sorry, Violence, dirty - Freeform, kinda hot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-11
Updated: 2019-01-11
Packaged: 2019-10-08 08:40:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17383316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anna_43/pseuds/anna_43
Summary: Sal is about ready to blow his brains out with this case.  No witnesses, no telltales, no fingerprints, and only one pattern.  Every new murder opened up something to do with random cold cases.  Unbeknownst to the detective, he was closer to his answers than he thought--closer than he would want to be to a tall, hot, bloodthirsty murderer.





	Exile

**Author's Note:**

> This is a little blurb that I got the inspiration to write, I don't know if I'll add on to it. I just wanted to write this starting scene and thought it turned out pretty good. Enjoy!

Newspapers coated the walls with various paragraphs, pictures and obituaries. The apartment held a smell of cigarette smoke and cheap weed, a smell that Sal had called home for the past six years. Books, cassettes, clothes and video games littered the floor or what little floor space there was. Littered desks took up the entire north wall, each one a stinging reminder of the work Sal had yet to do and also of the work that had been finished to soon. The cases that ended in blood.

Sal threw his latest paperwork on top of the pile. Another cold case that randomly open up. Another body, another lead. Sal put his head back making his prosthetic face tighten around his head. The white mask pressed against the tender skin underneath, rubbing as he moved. Although it was normally a perfect fit, in his urgency to get his work day over with Sal had neglected removing and cleaning the prosthetic. Five hours later and Sal still wasn’t done. There were evidence counts to sign, witness reports to read and insight forms to fill out--to much to do in one damn night.

The blue-haired man let out a heavy breath.

“Goddamnit.” he groaned.

There was a pattern to these killings. Every single one of them opened cold cases, but that implied that the killer knew of these cases. Sure, that was possible, but how? Who was the mole? If the cold cases were an incentive to kill, then what was the killer’s reason? Self-decided vigilante? Government interference? It couldn’t be the latter, because Sal knew for a fact if it was then no one would be hearing about these deaths. A vigilante wouldn't be killing people on jury duty. One murder involved a judge that was fresh out of school, no room for corruption or blackmail on her plate.

Cigarette in hand, Sal stormed up from his futon couch and out his balcony door. His nerves were at their boiling point. Sal sucked the nicotine out of the smoke in his hand and reached into his jacket pocket. Empty Newport package in hand, Sal let out another angry breath. Out of cigs.

Four in the morning Sal walked back into his apartment, shopping bag in hand, fresh cigarette in mouth. He had to be at work in two hours but at least he had a head-start on the paperwork and enough microwave meals to feed a king. Fridge stocked, Sal headed towards his couch to catch a power nap. He froze. There was a man on his couch.

This guy didn't look like your average joe. Obscene tattoos seemed to make up more of this man’s body then skin. Brown, long hair fell down his shoulders, past a bruised face, large crooked nose, and chocolate eyes. What looked like fresh cuts and purple knuckles made up his hands. The kind of hands that could swallow a grown-ass man’s throat and squeeze the life out of a human if they wanted too. A deep chuckle rumbled out from the stranger’s chest, Sal could only describe it as foreboding.

“What’s with the stare, Jason? Didn’t your mama teach you not to stare?” the man said, pulling his black jacket around his shoulders tighter. Sal’s gaze darted everywhere at once, noticing for the first time a eerie looking stain on the legs of the man’s jeans. It was blood red.

“Who are you?” Sal said, backing himself up.

Sal dropped his cigarettes and slowly moved his hands to his sides. Stuck in his belt was a pistol, all he had to do was grab it.

“I’m hurt officer Sal, real hurt.” he replied, getting to his feet,”You and I have gotten to know each other quite well over the past six months. Man, you haven’t even figured out who I am yet, have you? You must not be very good at your job.”

Sal’s back hit the wall, shit, he hadn’t realized how fast he was moving. The stranger moved closer, invading Sal’s personal bubble just a little to much. Sal didn’t want to be in the same room as this guy, much less have him two inches away from his face. A hard bubble went down Sal’s throat and a million different ideas were going through his mind. The smell of sweat and iron invaded Sal’s nostrils.

“Still no guesses? Man, I thought you’d be more fun than this.”The man uttered, resting his hand on the wall behind Sal.

“Should I know you?” Sal asked, a million different criminal’s names floating around in Sal’s mind. God, something about this man was nagging at his gut.

“I would say so, seeing how you literally have my handiwork riddling your desk. Unsolved, I see? Not even a name, disappointing….”

Sal’s eyes widened underneath his mask. The only unsolved files he had with him were the Cold Case files. This man was claiming to be behind all of those? One man? Yeah, sure. Then again, he had obviously made his way into Sal’s apartment unnoticed. It wasn’t like the building was impenetrable, but there was two different security checkpoints, each manned with guards. Other than that, intruders only other option was a five foot tall cobblestone wall. The idea of this lanky, over 6 foot hulk getting over that wall was comical to Sal, but there were more pressing matters at hand.

“I don’t have all night, officer,” Larry spat the words like they burned his tongue,”so Imma cut straight to the chase. I need a favor.”

“And why would I give you a favor?” The words came out quiet, a whisper. Sal shrunk as small as he could, looked as timid as he could get and as clueless as he dared. All the while his hand slowly inched behind his back.

“Because it’s gonna benefit you too, trust me, you’ll get to close your case with a guilty person behind bars and you get a wad of cash. Come on now, little boy, doesn’t that sound nice?”

“Who you calling ‘little boy?’”

Sal wrapped his fingers around the hilt of his gun. His assailant couldn’t see Sal’s mouth stretch into a Cheshire grin underneath that full face mask. 

“I’m just playing nice,” the stranger locked eyes with Sal, something in his look was curious, the other was deadly. They stared at each other for a moment, but as Sal pressed the barrel of his pistol to the invader's chest everything shifted. Head high and shoulders squared, Sal backed the stranger up.

“Well so am I,” Sal retorted, using one hand to aim his gun and the other to grab his cellphone,”because I could call the cops right now if I decided to play dirty.”

“Figures the shortie with the opera mask carries a gun,” the stranger laughed nervously,”should have known.”

“First, put your hands on the back of your head and secondly, I’d ease up on the nicknames, hot-stuff. Who are you? What’s your name?”

“No matter what I say, you aren’t going to believe me are you?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Look, I have a bit of a peace offering. You know that drug bust you guys were hoping to make next week? What if I told you that you’re gonna hit a brick wall? An explosive one at that.” The stranger had his hands on his head, but his demeanor hadn’t changed that much. Sal wanted to shoot, but his curiosity prevented it. How did this man know so much?

“What are you talking about, I want your name.”

“You and the rest of the NYPD.”

“I’m not playing around,” Sal said, giving his gun a tap with one of his fingers,”Tell me what I want to know, like how you know about the bust.”

Without warning, Sal’s head came in contact with a baseball bat. The pain put him on his knees, but he managed to keep a good grip on his gun. Before he could re-aim it, the mysterious man grabbed his arm and forced it flush against Sal’s shoulder. A couple locks of black hair brushed against Sal’s mask as the man leaned down real close.

“I know you’re not playing, Sal,” The man whispered in a husky voice,”I’m not either and I could use someone with your skills. Like I said I need a favor. If you wanna take it up, I’ll fill your pockets and get you a bad someone to put behind bars. Keep in mind what I told you bout that bust and I’ll be seeing you.”

With that, Sal dropped to the ground roughly onto a pile of playboy magazines. The stranger made his way out of the cramped apartment and slammed the door behind him. All he had to do know was watch and wait. He grinned to himself and at the green-eyed brunette beside him.

“What?” The woman asked, resting a duct tape covered baseball bat on her shoulder.

The man opened his jacket to reveal multiple papers shoved unceremoniously into his inner pockets.

“I wanna see if this man is who we need. I was even generous enough to leave him a hint on who to get started with.”


End file.
